


But your'e crooked too, boy, and it shows

by EmanuelAn



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:20:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23313010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmanuelAn/pseuds/EmanuelAn
Summary: yes, another one of those, Justin cries, Clay is a concerned big brother. Quarantine life made it happen.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	But your'e crooked too, boy, and it shows

**Author's Note:**

> so basically is sort of this alternative universe, its the same with sliiiiight changes.  
> When things happen during the summer before Bryce death, also Sherry's sort of there because I think I kind of Stan for Clay snd Sherry, season 2 vibes. Justin is as always, hurting.  
> see if I actually continue this  
> also please consider I'm not native in English and wrote it mainly on the influence of weed.  
> sorryy not so

Its a summer night. One of those days at summer, more likely in august, that its night, and it’s still. So. hot. Clay liked summer, he had fun, was able to find the joy in the hot season. Tonight, though, he’s over it. He’s at home, the outhouse home. It’s late at night, he’s in bed, trying to watch this thing on his computer, the ac’s off, and it’s hot and he can’t seem to find the controller, because Justin, is seriously, the messiest person alive, or at least, _at least_ , in their entire school. Thats what Clay thought, frustrated with the weather, with Justin being messy, with Sherry. So sherry’s back. She’s back for summer, and they met a few times. With friends, all of the group, and now, now they were texting. Clay is the worst at this, he’s not sure, but Sherry seems to be into him? Maybe? And he really just wish not to fuck this up because of his lack in texting abilities. Not to pass as awkward, because he could, but more, in a smooth way. Like Justin would, and knows how to. Justin, messy Justin, who he can’t find the remote to the ac because of him, Justin. where was Justin?  
He had already finished his evening shift at Monet, by now either he would already be back, or he ended up meeting Zach or, one of the other guys on the way back and be back soon.He would not always text Clay if he’d be back late, most of the times Clay would already be asleep.  
Finally, Clay found the ac remote and turned it on. With the sudden change of air in the room, he could focus more on the newly changed-fresh out of the laundry- sheets. When felt pleased enough to just end this day, Clay closed his eyes and fell into a welcoming slumber.  
-  
Everything went black. He can’t see anything. Can’t breath, it’s all, it’s- it’s, he is falling. Falling down, falling apart. Black, black everything is black. Fuck. He open’s his eyes, seeing intensifies the dizziness so he shuts them back immediately, aggressively. He will pass out, he will, because he can’t breath, and because, because his fucking arm, and because, of- he stops to gasp in mids of half very fast, hard sobs, half painful, pathetic excuses for breaths. For a moment he is sure this is it, his breath stops. Then its back to sobbing, “breathing”, gasping, panicking. He’s a mess. It’s a mess. This is, a fucking mess. He tries to lean on the wall behind him. Use his shaky hand to support his throbbing arm, and tries, concentrates the most on trying to calm himself down. Years of hiding panic attacks in small, dark, cold, bedrooms gave him the experience, and knowledge in knowing how to. Trying to take deep breaths, long breaths, inhaling, exhaling. Silent tears run down his cheeks while doing so. His body is in shock, he is aware of that. He is in shock. He needs to get out of here. He need to go, he needs, he wants, Clay. Or not, he’s not sure. Maybe he should just, fuck, yeah, but, just, run away. Leave and not deal, with, deal with this. With the consequence of what just happened. It could not be more serious to say that, a few times Justin had felt like he just wanted, was filled with the desire, to die. Just like that. The only thing is Justin was drained, and tired, so so so, tired.  
-

He really was not sure how, but he managed to stand up and in a miracle get to the Jensen’s house. Don’t ask him, how long it took him, what happened during that walk, all he remembers is how he pulled himself up and then just snippets of imagines of streets, trees, houses, the moon, and then, he is inside. He gets in, unlocks and locks the door quietly, its dark, the lights off. Clay is sleeping, the light of the moon shine a glow on the room. It’s way less hot than outside. almost refreshing. He slides down the wall, sits on the floor, and leans his body against it. At least his arm is getting better. The pain. He can’t move it, obviously, but its not broken. That he is sure of. He thinks. Maybe he could just, say he fell at the kitchen at Monet, didn’t thought it was such a deal, took some pain killers and felt better and then at morning, woke up with pain because he, maybe, slept wrong on it or something? Because he hated hospitals, but also realised this injury wouldn’t go without a hospital visit. It could work right? Finding ways to cover this up for the Jensens, worked as distraction, a way to shut down, turn a little bit down a notch the real bad thoughts. The ones that he always ran away from, the ones that make his body ooze with all the wrong feelings, the ones he was most afraid of, forever will be. No matter what. Apparently tonight will be, but also at parts would absolutely not be, a night to remember. Because, “-Justin!” Clay is holding him, gently but hard, Hands on his shoulders, he’s worried, scared? What had made him this scared? Did something happened? What ?happened to Clay  
“Hey! hey. Look at- Justin, hey. Jesus. Look at me.” Clay asked and he sounds frustrated, no, its not that, he sounds desperate, so Justin obeys.

It’s only then when their eyes lock that its as if he is attack with the realisation he can’t breath. And then fucking again, that evening, its just that. That wrecking struggle to do the most human, most constant thing- to breath. He’s drowning in the lack of oxygen. In the tightness, that hurts, hurts so bad. He again doesn’t realise but now, he is hunched down, eyes tight shut, one arm cradled to his chest, the other holding very, very hard onto the coat hanger, shaking. Facing away from Clay. Crying, and not being able to stop, and more than all not being able to breath and, that scares him because it hurts, and what started all of this, scares him, _because it hurts_ , and please, he just wants this stop, to stop. Stop, to _stop_.

  
Clay bites his lip, close his eyes for just a second. Fuck Justin, what is going on?


End file.
